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11 December 2012 @ 03:52 pm
I wish I could tell myself that I've had enough stomachaches.

I wish I could do that thing that she does, claiming space for herself to feel comfortable in, making herself a natural part of companies and conversations, being completely confident she has a right to be whoever and wherever she is. I'm only trying to make myself smaller and smaller, and to keep breathing evenly lest someone notice that I'm about to burst into tears.

I wish I had the audacity to talk about love the way she does, to lay claim to another human being - first the one, now the other - so loudly and publicly and without any sign of embarrassment that she's using the exact same words as before. I've gotten so used to the bitter taste of these words that it barely helps me to discover they're meaningless.

I am utterly sick of this silent, small, fearful, insecure, aching, choking, guilt-tripping person that I become in her company. I am sick of the banality of this person's thoughts, her pathetic little moments of satisfaction. I'm sick of the stomachaches and the crying fits and the fear that my family-in-law will think I hate them because I spend every family gathering trying to disappear between the pillows of the couch.

15 August 2011 @ 06:21 pm
My love life (I use the word love very loosely) is a mess and I don't even care. I suppose I should try to fall properly in love with someone, but how?

Anyway, I might delete this journal soon. Dunno, really.
28 May 2011 @ 11:45 pm
(Written in a seriously intoxicated state at 4am last night, after my youngest brother's wedding party.)

Slowly sobering up, in a strange bed with no company but a purring cat. It's been a pretty memorable night - I don't think I'll ever forget the sight of my parents together on the dancefloor, moving to the beat in cheerful awkwardness - and how drunk I got on alcohol and love the presence of old friends and new family members, and laughed, sang, danced, danced --

And then sex. Inescapable, omnipresent, the way the boys look at the girls, the way the girls look at the boys, bodies twisting, turning, swaying to the music, pressing together, hands casually resting on backs, shoulders, waists, faces leaning close while lips shape inaudible words, oh everything. Even I cannot escape it, even I feel the need to touch and be touched, to hold and be held. But when it happens, when my dance partner presses up to me from behind, his hand on my stomach, his body warm and strong against my back, I gently disentangle myself nonetheless. I want it, but not like this. Not so cheap. Not with this man that I always used to admire for being so sexily grown-up, and for the calm sound of his voice at two in the morning when he'd make my nineteen-year-old self's head spin with cigar smoke and philosophy, so obviously out of reach - I do not want him to debase himself in this way, with a girl he hardly knows, a girl he has no feelings for.
But later when I have to leave and he lifts me off the ground in a tight hug and his lips linger on my cheek slightly longer than they should, his nose brushing against my ear as he mutters 'Don't be a stranger', I hear myself promise 'I won't, I won't', even though I guess I will, because I am the one who's grown up now, grown up enough to feel vaguely sad when I look at him, grown up enough to recognise that he has not.

Current Mood: exhaustedexhausted
03 April 2011 @ 01:27 pm
I'm back! It's spring and I'll devote the rest of this year to being happy and adventurous and beautiful because heartbreak is so last month.
Current Mood: hopefulhopeful
Current Music: O. Children - Ruins
20 January 2011 @ 10:12 pm
I'm not doing well, I think. I'm not doing very well at all.

This took me a while to find out. Life went on and I never felt particularly sad, so I thought I wasn't.
I still don't think about Matthijs very often. Whenever we happen to bump into each other - at some talk or lecture - I look at him and see a stranger, someone I feel no need to be close to, someone I probably wouldn't want to date again.

But there's the indirect evidence. The fact that all I ever seem to do nowadays is either impulse emo-eating or semi-intentionally 'forgetting' to eat - how eating has become a Thing, how I've begun to think about food in ways I can't even begin to understand - I don't want to count calories, I really don't, it's not who I am at all, and yet.
And then there's the fact that I don't think I'm doing a very good job as a PhD student. I used to have this spark and now it's gone. I read other people's papers and no revelations come to me. I just sit at my office desk and feel like I don't belong there.
Current Mood: numbnumb
Current Music: Covenant - The Beauty and the Grace
07 December 2010 @ 04:40 pm
Dear God I can't do this
I'm absolutely terrified

28 November 2010 @ 01:41 pm
this wasn't supposed to happen, not after a mere three weeks of being single
i suppose i can always blame the alcohol but then i distinctly remember muttering "i like you when I'm sober too, you know"
and i do, i do
but i can't really be held accountable for my own feelings at this moment, can i?
i mean how trustworthy is a broken heart

Current Music: Helium Vola - Nummus
11 October 2010 @ 02:38 pm
Also, this probably goes without saying, but I'm worried sick about my country. I want to do something - anything - to stop the sort of society that our new right-wing, xenophobic, anti-intellectual, anti-cultural government envisions from becoming reality, but I'm definitely not going to contribute anything by sitting in an office all day sipping tea and reading linguistics papers. 

Any ideas?
08 October 2010 @ 04:28 pm
October is my favourite month of the year. Summer exhausts me: in its mercilessly long and sweaty days, my usual thoughts and dreams grind to a halt and leave nothing but listlessness and a compulsive tendency to doubt everything about my life and the future I've imagined for myself. But then, autumn - when the Amelisweerd smells like almonds and wet leaves and the sun is actually nice to sit in, and the academic year kicks off and brings with it new things to learn and new dreams to chase and, maybe most importantly, a blank slate of sorts - and I am alive again, with an intensity which I had quite forgotten about. 

Then, of course, there's the more tangible joys - pumpkin soup, hot chocolate, chestnuts, knitted cardigans, warm socks, fallen leaves, sandalwood incense, reading Harry Potter to my housemates at night, and the slow warming up of a cold but comfortable bed.

And finally the nostalgia, sweetest of sorrows, adding layers of double and triple meaning to everything from the inner city of Utrecht to the vintage Opeth I felt a sudden urge to listen to:

The evening trees moan as if they knew
At night I always dream of you

Current Mood: working
Current Music: Opeth - Black Rose Immortal
06 September 2010 @ 12:09 am
I guess 2010 has turned me into someone accomplished. I am, as of this year, a person with a driver's license, a 4.0 GPA MA degree, and a job (a real job, I mean - one that's fulltime and reasonably well-paid and will enable me to travel all over the world as long as I keep coming up with some reasonably interesting stuff to put on Powerpoint slides).

I don't know if it suits me. I like being promising; I like daydreaming about things I am going to accomplish. But the real thing is so - I wanted to say disappointing, but how could I possibly be disappointed by a perfect GPA? Prosaic, maybe. Or boring.

Yes, boring.

And safe, that too. No-risk stuff. When I was young I was so sure I'd have published a novel by the time I was twenty-five, but I've been twenty-five for ages now and I've never even tried.

Still, I really, really want this job, this life. Does that mean that I'm prosaic, and safe - does that mean that I am boring?

Current Mood: okayokay
Current Music: 16pad noise terrorist - lovecore